TLC
by BonitaBreezy
Summary: Clint is so exhausted after a battle that he can barely function. Good thing he has Phil to take care of him.


The very worst part about not being cleared for field duty was waiting for Clint to come back so that Phil could see that he was okay with his own eyes, and feel that he was solid and real and still there with his own hands. He'd known, of course, when they got married that their jobs were very dangerous and likely to kill them, but he'd never imagined a time where they wouldn't be out in the field together, able to watch each other's backs. If Clint died in the field, Phil wanted to know that there was absolutely nothing he could have done to stop it. He didn't have that security when he couldn't be out there to watch Clint's back.

So when Clint got back from the latest battle (_hundreds_ of giant spiders in Brooklyn) and was covered in dust, dirt, and blood (someone else's, thank god), Phil had been a bit beside himself with worry, but, being who he was, he'd managed to tamp it down and focus on what he could do now instead of what he could have done then. By the time Clint got through a check up at medical and his debrief, he was falling asleep where he stood. Phil knew for a fact that Clint could sleep standing up if he had to (he could also sleep with his eyes open, which was extremely disconcerting) but he felt that he shouldn't have to if it wasn't necessary.

"Come on, Clint," he encouraged the exhausted archer, grabbing his hands and tugging insistently. Clint jerked awake with a sharp inhale, the kind that happened in that place where you were just about to fall asleep. He blinked wearily at Phil for a second, like he wasn't sure why he'd been woken up. After a second his brain caught up and he nodded, pulling himself up while still grasping Phil's hands and allowing himself to be led out of the building and in to the parking garage. A few junior agents had attempted to catch Phil's attention on their way out, but he'd quelled their questions with his iciest glare while continuing to quietly encourage Clint to keep walking.

He settled Clint into the front seat of a nondescript black SUV, buckling Clint's seatbelt for him when it became obvious that he'd fell asleep again as soon as he'd sat down. Feeling sentimental, he placed a quick kiss on Clint's forehead as he leaned back out of the car. The slamming of the car door didn't make him twitch in the slightest, which was good. Clint only slept this hard when he felt completely safe, and it made Phil glad to know that Clint had confidence in him, even though he still wasn't back to where he'd been before Loki had stabbed him, and honestly probably never would be again.

Thankfully, SHIELD headquarters wasn't too far from Avenger's tower, and it was the middle of the afternoon, so traffic wasn't as bad as it could have been. It only took about half an hour to get there, though it took about ten minutes to convince Clint to wake up enough to get him inside and into the main elevator and then another five to convince him to cross the common floor of the residential area and into the private elevator that led to all the apartments. He almost let out a hallelujah when the doors opened to their shared apartment, but the battle wasn't completely over, not yet.

"Clint, baby, we're just going to take a quick shower, okay?" he cooed as Clint tried valiantly to get to the bed. "You're all gross; you'll feel much better with a shower." Clint let out a whine that clearly said otherwise, but Phil would be damned if he'd let his sheets get stained with blood and dirt and god only knew what else.

He wrestled Clint into the bathroom and sat him on the toilet seat so that he wouldn't fall over while Phil was adjusting the water. Once it was warm enough that steam was billowing out into the room, Phil worked on getting Clint undressed, unzipping his tac vest and slipping it down his arms.

"I can't, Phil," Clint mumbled, talking for the first time since he'd finished his debrief. "Love you, but can't, too tired."

"I'm just getting you in the shower, remember?" Phil prodded. "I promise, undressing you for completely unsexy reasons."

"Mmm, kay," Clint responded as Phil started working on getting his boots off, cursing Clint's damn uniform and its many buckles and straps. When he finally got Clint undressed, he quickly stripped down himself and manhandled them both into the shower. Clint let out a small moan when the water hit his shoulders, muscles relaxing almost immediately.

"See, isn't that nice?" Phil murmured, and Clint nodded sleepily, unmoving from underneath the water's spray. It was extremely clear that Clint was not up to actually showering, but Phil had expected that. He had no problem with taking care of his husband, especially when he knew that Clint would do it for him were their situation reversed. He soaped up a shower sponge and went to town, scrubbing at the dirt and blood caked on to Clint's skin, starting from his shoulders and working his way down his feet, and then heading back up to gently clean Clint's face with a rag and some soap.

"Done?" Clint asked after all the suds had been rinsed off and the water was running clean again. His voice was barely louder than a whisper and Phil felt bad for him.

"Almost, just have to wash your hair, okay?" Clint nodded sleepily, leaning forward slowly until his forehead was resting on Phil's shoulder. Phil stared at him incredulously for a moment before sighing and accepting it. He'd figure it out.

And figure it out he did. After some awkward angling and stretching, he managed to get all of Clint's hair shampooed, and then it was just a matter of backing them both under the spray again so that he could rinse the soap out. Satisfied with his job, Phil turned off the shower and grabbed one of the huge fluffy towels that Stark had supplied for their bathroom, wrapping it around Clint and giving him a cursory once over to absorb most of the water before leading him to the bed. Clint collapsed onto the bed and Phil maneuvered him under the blanket, pressing a kiss to his forehead once more before heading back towards the bathroom so that he could get dry himself. He'd hardly taken a step when Clint grabbed his wrist, mumbling, "Stay."

Phil glanced at his watch and saw that it was barely past three in the afternoon, but then he looked at Clint, clearly exhausted but clinging to him and his mind was made up.

"Of course I will. I just need to get dried off and grab my tablet, okay?" Clint hummed in satisfaction and Phil did just as he said he would, drying off quickly and slipping into a pair of clean underwear before locating his tablet. He settled into bed, sitting up against the headboard next to Clint, who immediately rolled over, throwing one arm around Phil's waist and burying his face in Phil's side, pressing a sleepy kiss against his skin and falling asleep immediately after.

Phil looked at him fondly for a few minutes before getting started on what work he could do from his tablet. So he couldn't go out into the field and watch Clint's back right now. That didn't mean he couldn't make up for it when Clint got back. Taking care of Clint was what Phil did, plain and simple, and a little chest wound wasn't ever going to stop him.

Clint was his to care for, and honestly, Phil thought he did a pretty damn good job of it.


End file.
